


Second Chances

by spittingfeathers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, End of the World, Fix-It, Gen, She does what she wants, Time Travel, WIP, Wizards vs Muggles, everyone vs aliens, harriet potter takes no shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-01-03 07:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spittingfeathers/pseuds/spittingfeathers
Summary: Harriet Potter is done with all this shit. Wizards fighting wizards. Muggles fighting wizards. Aliens. Infinity Stones. She'd be quite happy to die and let someone else deal with it. Except half the universe has been turned to dust and Death's unhappy with Thanos' plan. He had a system! Notes! Order!Apparently it's up to her to fix it.





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> I'm clearing out my WIPS, it's been a while since I've written for this so there's only two chapters (for now). If anyone wants to run with this they can, just let me know so I can read it toooo

It was almost funny that the true threat was neither from magic or muggles at all…but aliens. Fucking _aliens_.

Harriet Potter had fought in far too many wars in her short life. She was thirty-seven. Riddled (ha!) with scars. And tired. So fucking tired that she wondered whether she shouldn’t just give it all up and succumb to her injuries. 

She’d been fighting against Voldemort and ‘The Dark Side’ since she was eleven. Then she was fighting against Muggles who’d captured wizards and witches and _children_ to test and torture and dissect. After that, she’d fought _other Muggles _who felt wizards were too dangerous to live after they’d tried to rescue their families, _and after that clusterfuck,_ it had hit the media, and then the whole world went mad. 

Wards fell to technology which developed at a rate too quickly for those of magical ability to keep up. If they weren’t killed on sight, the capture of Magicals allowed the muggles to use them for information and testing to create new magic resistant weapons and containment fields. It was no surprise that the population of magical Britain hit an all-time low. Hogwarts was gone, Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley and Gringotts - the Goblins had retreated far underground taking a few lucky humans with them before they collapsed the tunnels and delved deeper and deeper into the earth to hide. Harriet hoped they had done alright, though no one could say for sure as magical beings were hunted even more viciously than the humans. 

Of course, it was only after the first spaceship entered the atmosphere in New York with thousands upon thousands of strange, vicious creatures under the command of some giant purple bastard who looked like his mother had taken a potato slicer to his chin, that the muggles decided maybe Magicals weren’t so bad. At least they were _human_. At least they were from this _planet_.

But Merlin she was tired. And cold.

**That would be the blood loss talking.**

The voice rumbled through her head in a way she knew all too well.

Harriet groaned and coughed on the grit and ash that clung to her throat. “W—what do you want now”

Death took no time at all to appear beside her in all his smoking wispy glory. He looked decidedly put out if a faceless entity could look such a way. **I dislike this Purple Creature. **

“Join the club.”

**I am surprised you are not fighting, Master. Or have made no requests of me to slay him or restore you.**

“Can you?” She muttered. She found it impossible to move more than twitch her fingers, pinned as she was to the ground by that awful crackling spear some horned bitch had thrown at her. At least she’d had her revenge with Sectumsempra. She’d been so angry that the extra juice she put into the spell cut her up into bite-size chunks. Far more pieces than she could possibly regenerate from. Some of the creatures regrew limbs as fast as they lost them, others carried on as fiercely as if they had not been injured at all, and considering how outnumbered they had been she couldn’t take the chance. They’d lost too many before they’d figured it out.

That mattered little now, considering half the universe had just crumbled into dust.

**I cannot kill him or restore you now. Not directly. If I did, it would go against the natural order and it is this I dislike.**

Her laugh was little more than a pained wheeze. “Oh breaking the rules. S—shock! Horror!” 

She could feel Death’s non-existent eyes boring into her.

**I can put another on that path, however.**

“You know what,” Harriet rasped, “I’m not even fucking s-surprised anymore. I always get pulled into shit like this. I won’t say no since I know you’re going to do it anyway. _Master_ of Death my arse….” Time ticked away as her blood soaked into the ground beneath her. “I’d thought you’d be pleased — all those s-souls travelling to the Beyond.”

Harriet knew immediately she’d said the wrong thing. The world around her darkened as Death spoke, his voice almost a snarl as he raged to her.

**Those souls do not go to the beyond. It is almost as though they have never existed at all. With a single snap of his fingers that oaf has disrupted everything. I have a system! Order! There are things that must be done, it is the way of creation and he has wiped half of everything from existence and no one decides when another’s time is due except me. I am Death!**

_Merlin have mercy on me. What a drama queen._ “Yeah, we get it. Thanos is a bag of dicks, but what are you going to do about it?” It was becoming difficult to speak and her eyes were desperate to close. A black fuzziness had begun to creep in at the edges. It wouldn’t be long now. 

**You will prepare them. I will give you knowledge and power that will aid you toward the destruction of this thief…this timeline is lost and it will be erased, I can do that much. **Harriet’s eyes slipped closed and Death’s voice began to sound further and further away. **After such a disappointing end, Master, I hope to make your next attempt more entertaining.**

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”


	2. The Beginning

It helped that she’d got to say goodbye. All her friends, her family and the people she’d fought beside appeared in the blinding whiteness of King’s Cross. It felt as though an age had passed as she hugged and apologised and received good lucks and well wishes. When she reached her parents she felt her heart swell as they wrapped their arms around her. Though it tore at her heart that she was now older than they would ever be, it didn’t stop them from being both proud of all she had accomplished, and gently chiding her at getting into such dangerous situations. 

They sat on one of the benches that dotted the station, the figures of her friends becoming indistinct and hazy as they left and Harriet knew that her time here was coming to a close. She sat between her parents, holding their hands and talking, feeling Lily’s fingers run through her long dark hair and James’ thumb rub back and forth on her hand while they told her stories of their youth, of when she was a baby and how much they loved and worried over her as she grew up, facing impossible task after impossible task. 

There was of course ample time to plot how they would kill Thanos when he appeared in all his purple glory.

Remus, Tonks and Sirius who decided to sit on the floor in front, suggested increasingly creative and violent means to make Thanos miserable which included (but was not limited to) making him walk barefoot across upturned plugs and lego.

Last time she’d been here, fresh from an AK at Voldemort’s hand and meeting with Dumbledore, it seemed as though time raced by her. She’d had so many questions, so much she wanted to say, and then she had been laying on the floor of the forbidden forrest and Narcissa Malfoy was pressing her trembling fingers against her neck and asking after Draco. Now it seemed she had all the time in the world. She could ask questions, listen to stories and _hug_ _her family_. Somehow she knew this was Death’s gift to her.

When she began to grow cold, she knew her time was almost up.

Harriet looked to her parents. “I love you,” she said, “I’ll miss you.”

“We’ll always be with you.”

“We love you so much…”

*****

As arrogant, and probably dangerous as it was to think it, this timeline was hers to do with as she pleased. As long as she completed her task in time. It was simple enough. All she had to do was ensure the wizarding world survived the next war with minimal casualties, put aside their prejudices and were united long enough to see Thanos destroyed…piece of cake.

Harriet had half expected to wake up in the cupboard under the stairs, listening to Aunt Petunia’s shrieks for her to get up, but instead, she woke up, cold, damp and completely naked in an empty field.

“Would it have been completely out of the realm of possibility that you could have got me some _clothes_?” 

Not that it mattered. On a list of Harriet’s priorities, modesty had been overtaken by much more important things such as survival and sarcasm. She lay there feeling the cool air brush over her skin and breathed deeply, savouring something so fresh and clean.

**I have reversed your age and healed your wounds. Is that not enough for the Chosen One?** The voice would have made anyone else tremble in fear, but Harriet could sense Death was almost _fond_ of her. She turned to look at the dark figure made of coiling black mist.

“Nope. Not nearly enough considering I have…how many years?” Knowing the date would make everything quite a bit easier.

**About twenty**

“Twenty? Hmm that’d mean…”

**Your younger self is currently eight years old.**

“Younger self?”

**I said I wanted this life to be more interesting.** Harriet could hear the smirk in Death’s voice. **And this way you will not need to wait around for magical maturity or emancipation. Wizards and Muggles have such strange restrictions. A man can still be a child at fifty.**

Harriet snorted. _Or seventy. _

“Well I suppose that’s one of the first things I’ll do then. Swoop in and rescue my younger self from years of misery and treat her well…yet all the while destroy what’s left of Tom, unite the world, get them to believe me about the threat to the universe and ready them to fight the Purple Scrotum.”

**Correct. Though I must ask — is purple scrotum one stage further than Blue Balls?**

“I cannot tell if you’re making a joke or if you’re serious,”

**Sirius Black is currently in Azkaban though that may be a good place to start if you want suggestions.**

Harriet gaped at the misty form of Death. “You _were_ joking! I cannot deal with this right now. I’m naked in a field. Nothing hurts. I’m going to save the world and Death is making jokes.”

**Shall I stop? I can return to being dark and brooding if you prefer. **As she sat up she felt the familiar slip of her father’s invisibility cloak drape over her shoulders. **Better?**

“No,” Harriet laughed, feeling a little mad. “But it’s fine. You do you. I’ll just…well I suppose there’s no time like the present.” 

Since Death wasn’t going to magic her up some incredible armour from thin air, a bit of transfiguration would have to do for now. Harriet grabbed a handful of grass and focused on transfiguring them into something wearable. Underwear, jeans, t-shirt and a thick jacket. Her magic surged forward to complete the task, far more powerful than it had been before. 

**You still recall how to destroy a Horcrux?** Death asked as she got dressed. 

“Of course I do.” She’d never forget the screams from each piece as they’d been destroyed. 

His attention seemed to be elsewhere, then with a soft pop, the Elder wand appeared in front of her and she muttered a _thanks _as she plucked it out of the air. It sang strongly, joyous that they were together again. She wondered if Dumbledore was panicking yet, likely wondering what had happened to the Death Stick that had disappeared from its holster

**Your new powers will make it easier. They are stronger and now you are my master, no fiendfyre or Basilisk teeth are required. Simply order the piece to die. **

“In Parseltongue?”

**Whatever language you prefer. Or you can offer it to me. If you call, I will come.**

“That’s quite…something. Wish I’d known it back then. Might have made things a lot easier. I’ll see you around then.”

Death tilted his head in a nod and disappeared.

“There’s so much to do.” Harriet muttered as she stood and looked out over the fields. “But what should I do first?”


	3. The Locket

12 Grimmauld Place was even more of a shit hole than it was when she first visited in 1994. Likely due to the fact the Order hadn’t already started cleaning it out. But she couldn’t complain because it had powerful wards and hadn’t (yet) been turned to rubble as it had in…her future? Her past? Her future past? The other timeline. That’s what she’d call it. TOT perhaps? Though Harriet had no intention of telling anyone that she was from another time, clearing that up in her head was only going to be good for her own mental health. It happened. She wasn’t crazy. She was going to fix this and do her best to make sure half the universe didn’t turn to dust in twenty years.

Harriet obliterated another blood-hungry doxy and vanished the remains. _Best if I clear up as I go along, otherwise I’m just going to drag this crap all the way through the house._

She’d heard it said that when you decorate or clear a house, you should start with one room and work your way through slowly, but honestly, this extra boost to her magic was giving her some serious fire-power — enough to get rid of most of the terrible beasties that’d taken up residence at Number 12. She hadn’t seen Kreacher yet but knew he was lurking about somewhere. Likely watching her from some secret nook, muttering about how someone was befouling the House of Black. Except she was tidying it. Might be why he hadn’t attacked her yet. Or he could feel the way she’d taken over the wards?

Well, she wouldn’t force him to come out and talk to her. He’d likely appear in time anyway and be curious about who she was. Until that happened the goal was to set wards on various floors, so as she cleaned and got rid of the worst beasties, the rest wouldn’t be able to shoot down the stairs and occupy her cleaned rooms. They’d have to go UP, and though they’d be more dangerous when cornered (as all people and animals were) they wouldn’t be a problem for her.

Harriet felt the air around her shift when Kreacher finally appeared. He said nothing, watching her keenly as she cleaned. “Are you going to help me, Kreacher? I’d like to get this place liveable again so I can move in properly with my…nephew.”

His voice was as deep as she remembered. Like a bullfrog. “The wards says Miss is new Mistress yet Kreacher doesn’t know Miss. She’s not on the tree…”

Harriet had to huff a laugh at that one.“It’s a long story Kreacher, but I assure you I am related to the Black family.”

“Miss speaks the tongue of snakes.” He croaked, bright eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

“I do. And once the house is clean I’ll help you destroy the locket Regulas gave you.”

Kreacher stilled for a moment, she could see the questions building in his mind, warring with all his teachings to not question, to obey, to be silent and secret and hidden, and then began to help her clean. He said nothing but watched her intently from the corner of his eye as they worked. Aside from the screeching of Doxies and scuttling of dust bunnies, the work was peaceful and allowed Harriet to plan her next steps.

*****

They’d cleared much of the first floor in a single day, and they would have done more if it wasn’t for the piece of Tom’s soul lurking in the house.

Harriet held the locket chain in her hand, pendant trembling and Kreacher watched with wide eyes as she hissed at it to **DIE** in Parseltongue. 

Black mist, a terrifying screech, and it was over. The old elf promptly burst into tears, the weight of his master’s dying orders suddenly lifted from his shoulders and he collapsed, sobbing into his clawed hands. Harriet knelt beside him, the locket now no more than a pretty trinket in one hand, she patted his shoulder with the other as he bawled her praises and promised to have the house clean and tidy in no time.

“Do you mind if I keep this, Kreacher? The soul piece is gone but the locket will be useful to me.”

_Of course. Of course. Mistress does not need to ask Kreacher._

*****

Dudley Dursley and his gang were pummelling a familiar figure with a mop of black hair and messily taped glasses in the middle of the park. She knew it was them because Dudley cut the same rounded figure as he had in her youth. 

As Harriet strode quickly toward them, heels clicking sharply across the walkway she felt each blow echo the memory of growing up at Privet Drive. Being tripped. Kicked. Pushed. Pinched. Her anger rose steadily with each blow or high laugh from the boys, wondering, in another world whether another her and another Dudley could have been friends from the get-go, and could have been loved equally in Number Four Privet Drive.

She did her best to channel the chilly, dangerous voice Snape had often used when he caught her sneaking about Hogwarts in the night. She raised a single brow in an imperious arch and said, “_What_ are you doing?”

The boys jumped as though they’d been electrocuted and spun to face the adult staring them down. Dark hair tamed in a french twist and her suit tailored to her tall slim frame she looked as though she’d stepped straight out of the pages of Forbes Magazine. She’d spent some time on a bit of makeup and a light glamour to cover the remains of her lightning scar. She’d left her eyes unchanged, wanting no one to doubt the familial connection between herself and young Harriet. A stronger resemblance would go a long way into keeping custody should certain Wizards decide to meddle, because she intended to keep her younger self, safe and loved, as she should have been.

“I—We—“ 

Dudley began to stammer, the boys moving as though to obscure the small figure, almost drowning in Dudley’s cast-offs, curled into a ball to protect themselves. Yet, with his friends beside him, Dudley grew brave. “We’re playing a game! Now—shove off!” 

Harriet’s eyes narrowed into a stormy glare that set the Piers Polkis’ legs to trembling. 

“I think you’re all a little tired.” She said evenly, her words not up for debate. “Perhaps it best if your friends go home, Dudley.”

Dudley’s face twisted in a look of confusion and a little fear. His friends shifted, sharing looks that clearly wondered whether they should run or not.

“How did you know my name!” He demanded.

“I recognised you just now because you have the same eyes and hair like your mother, Petunia. The rest of you is Vernon. I was on my way to see her when I saw what you were doing and decided to put a stop to it.” Then, she looked sternly at each of the boys in turn, and if her eyes glowed just a little bit, no one would believe them. “If I _ever_ hear you bullying anyone ever again, I will go to your parents and tell them exactly what you’ve been up to, and you _will_ regret it.”

At those last few words, Dudley’s friends scattered, pale-faced and terrified, racing for home. 

She sighed and moved past Dudley to crouch beside her battered younger self. “Harry?” she said softly, keeping her hands to herself, knowing just how hard Dudley and his friends could kick. “Can you get up sweetheart?” 

“Y-yes” they croaked. Her younger self sat up, trying not to wince and keeping their head down, not looking into her eyes as they said, “I’m fine. I’m not hurt. We were just playing.” 

The familiar words struck her painfully in the chest and Harriet felt guilt for not fetching them sooner. 

“I don’t particularly like games where I get split lip, do you?” 

Slowly, Harry raised his cautious eyes to look at her and she struggled to keep her surprise from her face because Harry was _truly Harry_ and not _Harriet_. 

_Touche, Death. _

Harriet heard an answering chuckle in her head and smiled softly at Harry. “Well let's get you boys back home. I definitely need a chat with Petunia.”


	4. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a sudden burst of inspiration (procrastination on chores) to get this finished. Enjoy!

“You’re a _witch_!”

Harriet felt as though the wind had been knocked from her lungs by a bludger. Her mouth opened and closed as she struggled for what to say.

“I—I—“ She looked to the boys for help, but both of them stared back at her in confusion.

“Didn’t you know?” Dudley asked, scrunching his piggy nose and Harry’s eyes started to narrow.

Harriet focused on the wand pointed at her face. Held by her aunt. Her _magic hating Muggle Aunt_.

“I was told—“

“Who?” Petunia demanded, pushing the boys behind her and ordering them up the stairs. They ran quickly to the landing, pretending to go into their rooms while they looked through the gaps in the bannister. Harriet’s attention was drawn to Petunia’s wand as it sparked angrily. “Who told you where we lived — how to find us? How did you get through my wards?”

In all the ways she imagined this meeting could have gone. This was not one of them.

Harriet had accompanied the boys back to Privet Drive, leading so they knew she was actually telling the truth and knew the way home. She could have walked the route blindfolded.

It was all so familiar, so bizarre to be back after she swore she would never set foot in Privet Drive again but…it wasn’t _quite_ the way she remembered it.

It might have looked the same _physically_, but the way it _felt_ was far from normal as the closer she got to Privet Drive, the more she felt the need to _look away_, _turn around_, _not come back…_

Harriet fought against the wards. Not in a physical sense, because these were similar to the manipulation from Muggle Repelling Wards except usually wards are strong, thick walls of magic to protect, to drive away, to confuse or intimidate. These had been softer, lighter, wispy almost. Like a thought, quick, slipping through your fingers like mist till you can’t quite grasp what’s going on or why were you there in the first place.

Layers upon layers of subtle magical manipulation, making her believe that it would be _her idea_ to forget about Privet Drive. What she’s seen. What she’s heard.

She’d met so many people, felt their magic; strong, weak, sharp, warm, but there was _something_ about this tang in the air! It’s strange. Usually, she can match a signature to whom it belongs, and while it’s familiar, she can’t quite recall why.

Staring down the shaft of a wand held by her aunt, she feels as though the world has turned upside down.

Now really isn’t the time to panic.

“I thought Dumbledore set them up!” Harriet blurted. “I thought that you were—“

Petunia’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Dumbledore? I wouldn’t trust that man to set a table let alone my wards! Did he tell you where we were? Did he ask you to collect Harry for him — because if he thinks I’ve changed my mind he’s got another thing coming—and _just_ because I didn’t go to Hogwarts does not mean I am _lesser_ in any way!”

“We’re family!”� she blurts out and she can see the way Petunia hesitates. “I was told that…well. Can’t you see the resemblance? It's no glamour or potion, this I swear.”� Magic swirls in approval of the oath and perhaps it’s the way she hasn’t drawn her own wand yet that makes her aunt hold back on casting something nasty. If she had stood beside Harry, she could have been his mother or his older sister. The resemblance is startling.

“What’s your name?” Petunia demands.

And then the world seems to hold it’s breath.

One second. Two. Five…

_Why is she not moving?_

Harriet waves a hand in front of her aunt who suddenly seems to be frozen in time. She spares a glance to the boys peeking between the railings, they too are still as statues. How odd.

The amused presence of Death slips into being behind her.

**Having trouble, Mistress?**

She jumps to find the shadowy figure waiting by the door.

"What did you do?"

**You were panicking and I thought I could offer some assistance. I would suggest you hurry and take a look around, the time stream will start again very soon. **Death gives his version of a smile, a chill skitters up her spine and he begins to fade.** Remember, this world is changed.**

Harriet sighs and decides a look around is a good idea. She slips by her frozen aunt and goes straight to the cupboard under the stairs.

No lock. Simple handle.

It has to be done quickly, like ripping off a plaster, the _pause_ will not last long enough to sort out all her childhood traumas. The end would be upon them before she'd done that.

Harriet pulls the door open in one swift move—only to find it full of shoes, coats and cleaning supplies.

It's dusty and though there’s a spider slowly spinning its web in the corner, it's not what she expected. She pushes the coats away to get to the back wall…but there’s no writing there. Not ‘Harry’s room’ or the little marks she’d left in her own to count down the days she’d spent in there to ‘think about what she’d done’.

The door closes with a slam and she straightens, stepping through to the lounge to investigate further. She doesn't get far before she stops in surprise.

There are photos. On the walls. The dresser. Crowded along the mantlepiece.

They're not just of Petunia, Dudley and Vernon, no, there's some of her too! Well, Harry actually, but what is strange is that...well, Petunia, Vernon and the boys look _happy_.

No that can’t be right.

"Death?" She whispers. "Just how much have you changed?"

He doesn’t answer.

The pictures are a clever cover, almost as good as the one her own aunt had made back in her world, though unhappiness had echoed in her eyes in every picture they'd ever taken despite the way she'd smiled at the photographer. Here, Harry looks genuinely happy to be standing alongside Dudley...even in the larger more formal photograph.

There'd been one similar in her world.

Her scalp twinges at the memory of tight painful pigtails to curb her unruly black hair. The dresses, neat, freshly pressed. Frilly socks folded over at just the right height and feet buckled into shiny black shoes. **_Perfect. Everything needs to be perfect. _**Harriet swallowed harshly against the memories that swirl in her mind.

Coming home with a split lip.

The cupboard.

A lecture. The sick curl of disappointment from her aunt.

The unending pressure to please, to charm, to be the perfect daughter who wasn't a freak of nature.

** _A Lady does not fight or raise her voice. She walks, with perfect grace and decorum at all times. She smiles sweetly and is polite. You must be perfect._ **

_Perfect._ How she hates that word.

Clamps her teeth down around the sob clawing it's way out her throat, pressing a hand over her mouth to muffle her cry when she spots red hair. Another picture, hidden a little behind the others of family days out, school pictures and birthdays...

As soon as she touches the frame, the picture begins to move.

She knows who it is straight away, she'd guarded her own album and it's precious memories jealously until it had been burnt in one of the London bombings, but it had never had a picture like this.

It’s Lily and Petunia, young and happy, eating ice cream outside Fortescue’s in Diagon Alley.

She _could_ stun Petunia in an instant and whisk Harry away without anyone to stop her but…she wants to know. Why were Dudley and his friends kicking the shit out of Harry at the park earlier? How was Petunia a witch? Why didn't she like Dumbledore? Where did she train if not at Hogwarts?

The press of a wand at her back makes Harriet still, and she waits, picture in hand, for Petunia Dursley to speak.


End file.
